‘May It Last: A Portrait Of The Avett Brothers’ Is At Once Both Earnest And Insufferable

If you had told me at the dawn of the 21st century that folk music would make a comeback I would have pulled a Bluto Blutarsky and smashed an acoustic guitar against the wall like John Belushi in Animal House. There is perhaps no genre of music so despicable as contemporary neo-folk. Satan, laughing, spreads his wings as the masses of lumbersexual white people happily stomp their feet to some bearded bozos like they’re at a barnyard hootenanny, when in fact they’re at an overpriced music “fest” sponsored by corporate energy drinks, driven to in the Volvo their parents gave them after they upgraded to a Subaru.

The Avett Brothers sit near the top of the heap among the Americana-not-quite-country-but-kinda-country set. Over the past 17 years they have steadily built up a massive following with their plaintive songwriting, anchored around the skillful vocal harmonies of real-life brothers Scott and Seth Avett, and an exuberant live show, which takes it’s cues from the alt rock and emo scenes they cut their teeth on. The new documentary May It Last: A Portrait Of The Avett Brothers, which premiered on HBO this week and is now available on their various streaming services, explores the band’s history and chronicles the recording of their 2016 album True Sadness.

When we first meet the Avetts they are preparing for their sold Madison Square Garden shows in April 2016. We see Seth and Scott doing pre-show interviews, bedecked in corduroy jackets and soft oversize hats, looking like every Americana cliché pilfered off the cover of an album by The Band. Footage then cuts to a more hirsute version of the band, flailing around like muppets, banging on their banjos until the strings lie limp off the side of the instrument. Producer Rick Rubin appears to tell us that unlike most musical siblings, the Gallagher brothers of Oasis for instance, Scott and Seth Avett actually get along, and that their closeness is part of what fuels their music.

We travel back to their hometown in Concord, North Carolina, where Scott and Seth Avett still live just down the road from their parents. They chop wood with their Dad, who later says, “I’d like these guys even if they weren’t my sons.” The songs of The Avett Brothers contain lyrical allusions to dreaming, the simple joys of country life, heartache and personal growth. Rubin talks about the brothers’ ability to explore their “innermost private thoughts” and create something special through collaboration. At another point we see a tour bus drop off Scott, where he walks through the woods to his house, playing with a frog along the way. It’s all so insufferably earnest I could puke.

We learn about the brothers’ contrasting natures, the “sweet” Seth and the “fun loving” Scott. As children Seth looked up to his older brother, and Scott was protective of his younger sibling when not picking on him. The two say their actual friendship began as teens. The Avetts claim they first rejected their rural musical background, preferring the angst of Nirvana, and later At the Drive-In, before coming under the spell of legendary bluegrass guitarist Doc Watson, from whom Seth says he learned, “Power comes from character.”

Then it’s off to Malibu, California, home to Shangri-La Studios, originally built by The Band, where The Avett Brothers begin work on the album. It is the first time the group will record with their full touring band. We watch the brothers struggle with songwriting and bounce ideas off each other. For Seth, many of his songs reflect his recent divorce, and there is also the surprise revelation that he is expecting a child with his new girlfriend, actor Jennifer Carpenter of Dexter fame.

While it’s easy to be cynical about the “folksy” reputation the band seems to carry with them as a point of pride, it’s obviously genuine. Bassist Bob Crawford relates the story of how after joining the band, he became their booking agent. Cellist Joe Kwon manages their social media accounts and books their airplane flights to this day. When Crawford’s daughter was diagnosed with a brain tumor, the band members slept at the hospital with him. You see them packing up their own guitars at the end of their recording session, as Scott Avett ruminates about the irony of personal tragedy begetting great art, which the artist is then complimented on. You want to tell him to lighten up, while at the same time admiring the thought and commitment that goes into it all.

As we flash through to the film’s conclusion we see the rush of the album release, “to critical acclaim” and commercial success, the birth of Seth’s son Issac and the ecstasy of the band playing a Madison Square Garden to a room full of thousands of happy white folk. Directed by the comic writer and director Judd Apatow, May It Last: A Portrait Of The Avett Brothers hits all the familiar cues of what we think a rock documentary should be, exploring the artist and hopefully uncovering some codex which helps understand their art. Though it relies on all the typical clichés, in the end it convincingly portrays the band as real people, who care about each other and draw strength from the bonds of friendship and family. Aw Hell, I guess they’re not so bad after all.

Benjamin H. Smith is a New York based writer, producer and musician. Follow him on Twitter:@BHSmithNYC.